


In the Eye of the Beholder

by mihawque (mona_liar)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Child Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, model!Seto, will not be finished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mona_liar/pseuds/mihawque
Summary: Seto Kaiba is a model at the peak of his success who despises his job. Atem Muto is young, lost and sure of nothing but his admiration for his idol. When Seto accepts a position as a judge on an upcoming model competition show, things are going to drastically change for both.
Relationships: Kaiba Seto/Yami Yuugi | Atem
Kudos: 15





	1. Seto - Under the Spotlight in the City of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! I began writing this fic approximately 2-3 years ago and never got further than 10 thousands word. However, I recently dug it up from my fic archives and decided it wasn't that bad after all. So, after thinking out loud on tumblr and wondering whether I should post a fic I loved but had no real intention of ever finishing even though I know the plot and what would happen in the end, some people reacted positively to the basic premise of all of this. I hope you enjoy what I've written so far, I will not post everything at once so there is at least some anticipation left for you.  
> WARNING: THIS FIC WILL BE LEFT UNFINISHED! I have written 7 chapters so far and will likely have neither the time nor the energy to continue writing it to the end. It is however possible that I end up writing a quick summary of what I had originally planned for the rest of the story, I cannot promise it though.

Too hot. Too bright. Too many people touching him. The shutter sound of the camera was far away and yet far too close. Seto wanted to scream and to fight, to punch someone in the face and to run away. He did none of these things. Instead, he smiled, smouldered, slouched into a new pose, showed of the overly expensive watch on his wrist no one should be rich enough to afford.

“Fantastic! Great! A little bit more to the left! Amazing! Superb!”

The voice of the photographer felt like needles in his ears. What a prick he was. It felt like days had passed when the camera was finally put down, the lights dimmed, and Seto could finally step away from the photo set. He could not wait to flee all of this. To his great despair, his day of work was not finished yet. The designer immediately pulled him after the photographer to the big computer screens in the back of the room to look at the pictures they had shot today. Once more, Seto felt compelled to backhand the man just so he would let go of his arm. The skin felt burning and rotting where the stranger’s hands clawed around his biceps. Soon. Only a few more minutes and he would get away from them all, finally retrieving to his well deserved and desperately needed calm. He simply had to pretend to look at the pictures as if they interested him.

The others were already talking like a horde of second graders, pointing at various picture, which mostly looked the same. Seto registered absentmindedly that he was asked about his opinion. He pointed at the one which repulsed him the least. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and he was pushing his hair back with his right hand while looking slightly down. As soon as he retracted his hand, the discussion arose anew. Seto took this as his cue to disappear in his changing room. They would manage the rest without him.

With fast, effective strokes, Seto wiped his face clean, freeing himself of the makeup. The water was cold as ice as he rinsed his face off. It took Seto mere minutes to free himself of the stiff clothes they had made him wear. Everything he did was fast and efficient with the clear goal in mind to get out of there as quickly as possible. 15 minutes later, he stepped out of the building.

It was raining. Thankfully for Seto, he had thought about bringing an umbrella with him. The streets of Paris were empty. He just saw a young woman escape the rain by running into a café at the corner of the street. For a short moment Seto played with the idea of joining her in there, attempting to find good coffee but quickly rejected it. He had already and would spend enough time inside surrounded by too many people today. A walk and some time by himself was exactly what he needed.

Seto had just passed the Musée d’Orsay when his phone vibrated with an incoming message. He knew who it was before even looking at it. He would have loved to throw the damn phone into the Seine to escape everything that came with it, the endless calls and messages, but he knew he couldn’t. There were things more important than his own comfort.

 **G:** _Are you done with the interview?_

Maybe going back and throwing the phone into the Seine wasn’t such a bad idea after all. No one would ever be able to find it or know he had done it on purpose. His fingers flew over the small keyboard, wanting this to be over with. He practically pierced through the screen when he hit enter to send his message across the globe.

_Not yet._

**_G:_ ** _Don’t forget to be on your best behaviour. I want you to make the name Kaiba shine like a polished diamond. You know what we talked about._

This time, Seto didn’t even bother replying. I he had been allowed to have a say in this, the old man would take care of his name’s reputation himself.

The rain was getting stronger and the wind had picked up. The bottom of Seto’s trousers was nearly soaked through at this point. He needed to get inside somehow or there was no way he would be able to appear presentable to is interview later. And as much as Seto hated the job, he knew he had to behave like a true professional. He could not allow himself anything else.

Looking at the menu, Seto skimmed through the salads. One was named “ _Top Model_ ”. He ended up ordering a glass of water and the tomatoes with mozzarella. He was glad the waiter had understood his broken French.

While Seto waited for his food to arrive, he quickly sent a message to Mokuba, asking him about his school work and telling him when they could video call. He then opened his Instagram account. His manager had posted a quick video from todays photoshoot. Sometimes, he wanted to cut her off from doing anything in his name, but apparently this was good for “publicity” and “making people feel like they know him”.

She had captioned the picture with a simple description.

_“Working on a photoshoot for @VogueMagazine today. #modellife”_

At least she didn’t make him appear like some type of fool. He quickly deleted the hashtag before looking at the comments. There were already 256 and more to come. Most of them were unimpressive, composed of stupid emojis. One stood out to him however. It hadn’t been liked by anyone or received a reply, so it seemed to have drowned in the flood of all the other unnecessary comments.

_June1294: He’s the son of a warmonger and all of you are hyping him up because he has a pretty face? Disgusting._

Seto’s thumb hovered above the small heart symbol on the right side of the screen. The temptation to do something foolish was strong, but Gozaburo’s voice at the back of his head was stronger. Seto slipped the phone back into his pocket without taking another look at the screen.

The interview was taking place in the editorial office of Vogue Paris. Seto had worked with Samantha Brailey, the journalist, before. She was tolerable. He even had an interesting conversation at dinner with her, where they had discussed the G7 summit in Hamburg. He had no idea why she was still working for a fashion magazine. Neither of them fit into the over the top and appearance-based office and yet this was where their jobs made them meet once more. Seto took a sip of his water before nodding, indicating Samantha they could begin. She gave the cameraman a sign to start recording.

The questions were nothing out of the ordinary. How it felt to be the new face of Hugo Boss, his thoughts about being famous at such a young age, if there was anything he felt he had missed by beginning his modelling career at the age 15. Seto was quite sure he had already answered half of these questions in other interviews.

“You graced the cover of Cosmopolitan two weeks ago and their headline described you as ‘bold, cold and provocative’. Your fans know little about how you are and behave in your private life, so what are your thoughts on this assessment of your personality and fashion taste?”

Seto thought about his answer for a short moment. “Well, I don’t really understand what they mean by bold, since my job as a model is nothing else but to wear the creations of other people and make them look good. If a piece of clothing is supposed to look bold, it is the models job to make it appear that way, nothing more, nothing less. As for cold… I would agree that I am a person who does not wear his emotions on his sleeves, but I do not consider myself cold. A bit reserved, maybe, but that’s it.”

“And do you consider yourself provocative?”

“People are stupid, and they need to be made aware of it. If that makes me provocative, so be it.”

Seto could see how she tried to hide a smile.

“Well, this is already our last question. You’ve been quite busy this last year, and I’m sure you will be in the future. Is there anything you can tell us about your upcoming projects?”

Seto thought about the message Gozaburo had sent him earlier. He smiled at the journalist and he knew she saw right through it but would describe it as charming nonetheless.

“Nothing I’m allowed to talk about right now.”

“Well, that’ a shame. I’m sure our readers are dying to know about whatever you’re hiding. Thank you for this interview.”

“Thank you for having me.”

They stood up, shaking hands. Seto buttoned his suit jacket and they said their goodbyes.

Back in his hotel room, Seto only bothered with slipping off his shoes and let himself fall straight on his bed. His shirt would end up getting all wrinkled, but he couldn’t care less. His phone was ringing next to his head. It was Mokuba calling. Tired and barely keeping himself of rubbing his eyes, Seto took the call. Mokuba’s messy hair nearly filled the entire screen. He was already wearing his school uniform.

“Morning, Moku.” The alarm clock on the nightstand showed it was already past midnight. Seto hated how tired he sounded.

“Hi, Seto! How did the shoot go today?”

“Pretty good. As always. Did you already eat breakfast?”

“Yeah, I did. Did you already eat for dinner? Or have you at least ingested anything but coffee today?”

“Yeah. I went to a little café between the shoot and the interview. They had a pretty good caprese salad.”

“Good. But don’t forget to eat a bit more. I want you in your top condition when we see each other tomorrow! There’s no way I get to win against you simply because you didn’t take care of yourself!” Mokuba’s tone was bright and cheerful but smile betrayed how much he worried about his older brother. Seto tried to give him his best confident and energetic smile. He only managed it half way. He was simply too exhausted. He wished he would be able to stay away from home for just a little bit longer. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t, really. Mokuba needed him.

“You’re awfully confident. We both know you couldn’t even beat me if I were to play with a fever and vomiting every 2 minutes.”

Mokuba laughed. He quickly turned serious again.

“I can’t wait for you to be back, Seto. Why do you have to be away so often?”

“I wish I could stay.” _This was a lie._ “I wish I could take you with me to work or spend every single day with you.” God, Seto longed for it. He felt his heart freeze and burst simultaneously out of worry for Mokuba and the joy of seeing him and talking to him. “But I’ll fly back tomorrow, and we will spend the entire weekend together. I will take you to our lake house, how about that?”

“Yeah, that would be awesome! Can we take the consoles with us?”

The enthusiasm was back. Seto could hear a bell ringing in a faint distance. It was time for Mokuba to go.

“Mokuba, Isono rang for you. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

“But I don’t wanna go, Seto! What questions did they ask you in the interview? Can you bring me a souvenir from Paris? Did you meet the President?”

Seto knew that if he didn’t put an end to the questioning now, Mokuba would never get to the end, simply to delay their separation. Even if they were simply talking through a video call.

“Mokuba! I’ll be home tomorrow, and we’ll do everything you want. I’m going to go to sleep now and you’re going to let Isono drive you to school. And I know school is boring and you’d rather be with me, but let’s both do our best, okay?”

Mokuba looked sad again, leaving his head hanging.

“Yeah, I will. Good night, Seto. Sleep well. We’ll see each other when you’re back, right? You’ll be here for the weekend?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Mokuba pointed his little finger at the screen. Smiling, Seto tapped his own at the glass screen.

“Pinky promise. And now go.”

“Good night, Seto.”

“Have fun at school, Moku.”

Seto could barely see Mokuba rolling his eyes at him before the call ended. He should really do as he had told Mokuba and head straight to bed. His plane was leaving early in the morning.

Seto was brushing his teeth when his phone, lying next to him on the marble plate around the sink, lit up. It was an e-mail from his agent. The topic read:

 **[ _Urgent_** **_!] Job offer for ‘The World’s next Top Model’_ **

Still brushing his teeth, Seto opened the e-mail.


	2. Atem - Worldwide News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atem is at the shop and wishes for something that could change his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a very short one this time, but I rather wanted to keep Seto and Atem's POV seperate rather than smushing them together simply to have a bit longer chapters.

Atem was sure he had never been this bored in his entire life. It was a Wednesday morning, the middle of the week and not a single potential client had opened the door of the Kame Game Shop yet. Yugi was already at University, having an early lecture and since Grampa was already working too many shifts than was good at his age, it had fallen upon Atem to take this one. For the third time in the last 10 minutes, Atem opened his Instagram. Still no new pictures. To make sure he hadn’t missed anything, he manually checked some personal accounts. _Kendall Jenner:_ Nothing. _Teddy Quinlivan:_ Empty. _Seto Kaiba:_ Still as dry as the Sahara Desert.

Sighing, Atem switched to his own account. No new comments. His last picture was still at 256 likes. It was a selfie he had taken on a bridge near the shop two days earlier, the light of the sunset illuminating his face. It had made his golden eyeliner stand out even more. In Atem’s opinion, it was a good picture. A great picture, even. Last month, he had applied to 5 different modelling agencies, but they had all refused to sign him. Told him, he “ _didn’t fit the profile they were looking for_ ”. Each time, Atem could barely restrain himself of storming out and slamming the door. It wasn’t his fault he had ended up with dark skin. In moments like these, he sometimes wished he looked more like Yugi.

Atem switched to his gallery, swiping through some selfies he had taken and a few other pictures Yugi had shot of him when they both had had a day off. He mused over which one looked better, which one would be best to edit, which one would get him more attention. In the end, he chose a full body picture in which he wore his more standard regalia, black leather pants with boots, studded belts and a tight tank top. He was editing it to deepen the different shades of black and make his jewellery pop out more against his dark skin when he received a message from Yugi. It was simply one link. Curious, he opened it. The page read.

**_America’s next Top Model gets new spin-off, this time Worldwide_ ** _._

_The CW has decided to collaborate with producers, tv-channels and most importantly, models, to produce a one season casting show searching for the World’s next Top Model. As they confirmed the rumour today in a press release, they explained, that with our globalized world, is it only natural to want for models who will inspire everyone and not just the few. There have yet to be any announcements for any participants or jury members, nor is it clear how exactly this new show will work, but we sure are excited! Casting calls will be announced shortly and will include the United States, Canada, Europe, Turkey, Russia, China, South Korea, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Brazil and Mexico. Follow us to not miss a single update._

Atem read through the article over and over again. This was it. This was his chance. He had to get into this show, no matter the cost.


	3. Seto — Pain is the Song that keeps us Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seto returns to Domino City, where Isono and Mokuba are already waiting for him. Someone else is back in the city as well, someone he did not expect to see so soon.

On the other side of the window, the sky stretched as far as Seto could see. The clouds looked like the cotton candy he had bought for Mokuba at a fair last year, as if he could simply pick them up with two fingers and let it melt in his mouth within seconds. His laptop was open before him, the e-mail from his agent he had received the day before written in black on white on the screen.

**_[Urgent!] Job offer for ‘The World’s next Top Model’_ **

_Hello Seto,_

_I hope the interview and photoshoot in Paris went well. I’ve just received a phenomenal job offer for the new casting show “The World’s next Top Model” [ link]. They want you as one of the Jury members._

_The filming would take place between June and February, with the finale taking place in May. Call me ASAP so we can talk about this. I think it would be a huge step for your career and open you a lot of new doors._

_Seiji_

This was an absurd idea **.** Whoever had come up with this deserved to be fired immediately. Seto Kaiba had better things to waste his time with than sit at a desk and tell people why they should take a shovel and bury their dreams six feet under rather than humiliate themselves on international TV. Seto had just opened his browser when his phone rang. It was time that Gozaburo called. Normally, he began to bother Seto a few hours after everything was done to make sure that his adoptive son didn’t even dare to think of escaping his clutches.

To Seto’s great surprise, Gozaburo wasn’t the one calling. It was his agent. He took the call.

“Hello Seto, how are you? Have you received my e-mail?” Seiji’s voice was calm, but not overly formal.

“Yes, I have, I’m reading it right now, actually.”

“Good, good, very good. I’m calling to ask what you think of it? I think this would be a great opportunity for you, you know, to show you can do other things than just stare at a camera while looking pretty. You could show a different side of you, expand your audience and such. Also, it would be really well paid.”

Seto sighed internally. One day, he would need to make Seiji understand that money was not his motivation for doing this.

“I’m thinking it over,” he said.

“Please agree quickly, they’re beginning to shoot the show in one month and it’s very well possible that they already have other candidates on the line. It would be a shame to lose this chance because we were too slow.”

“I will give you the answer tomorrow. Goodbye.”

Without awaiting a response, Seto hung up. Gozaburo was really taking his time.

Seto woke up from his nap shortly before the plane touched the ground. It was snowing in Domino City. The jacket he was wearing was by far not thick or warm enough, but Seto had never been a person to fear cold and preferred to freeze his ass off rather than bother himself with carrying an appropriate coat. The only thing he had invested in to keep off the cold were a pair of fitted gloves. His fingers gripped around the handle of his bag as if he wanted to strangle it. When he entered the airport hall, he immediately saw Isono holding a board with his name. On his left and right, flashes from Camera’s were going off. Seto had learned to ignore them completely a long time ago. He was wearing sunglasses to hide the bags under his eyes, even if it made him look like an arrogant asshole. It was already the reputation he carried around with him, so it really didn’t do anything but confirm what people already thought they knew.

Isono and he didn’t exchange a single glace until they were in the limousine waiting in front of the airport. Mokuba was already waiting in the back. A big jacket with fur rim on the hood was lying next to him. Seto knew his little brother would nearly drown in it if he were to wear it for real. However, no later than had he opened the door, it was Seto himself who found himself drowning in Mokuba’s lion mane as he nearly hugged him to death.

“Careful, Moku. I’m suffocating!”, Seto managed to bring out, but his words did nothing to stop his little brother from his very physical show of affection. When Isono started the car, the two brothers toppled into the seats. Finally, Mokuba abandoned his loving assault. They were already out of the airport when they put their seatbelts on.

“How was school today?”, Seto asked.

“Not bad. I had to make a presentation today.”

“And?”

“It was sooo boring.”

“That’s how school is. I had to go through the same thing.”

Mokuba pouted. “Why can’t I come with you? You know exactly I could still ace all my exams if I was home-schooled while travelling with you! And it’s not like money is an issue for us!”

“Mokuba, we’ve talked about this! As much as I would love to have you with me, I have too much to do while working and you’d get bored in the hotel rooms too fast. While you are here, at least I know you are being taken care of.”

Of course, Seto didn’t tell him everything. He _couldn’t_ tell him everything. The truth was that Gozaburo liked to keep Mokuba close to him to make sure Seto - his golden child as he liked to call him - didn’t run of. It had already cost Seto hours of arguing with the man to convince him to send Mokuba to a public school instead of home-schooling him like he had done with Seto. Mokuba might not realize it, but these 8 hours per day he spent there were 8 hours Gozaburo could not touch him. And it meant Gozaburo could not harm Mokuba in a way people would notice since the teachers would quickly begin to ask questions and if there was one thing Gozaburo tried to avoid at all costs, it was questions being asked.

Mokuba didn’t talk to him for the rest of the trip.

The mansion Gozaburo Kaiba called his home was just how Seto had left it. Cold, unwelcoming, a place which held all his worst memories. The big windows, even bigger entry door and light colour of the building could do nothing to hide the atrocities Seto knew took and had taken place within its walls. Each time he had to walk over the doorstep, it felt as if the 7th circle of hell opened before him with open arms.

Gozaburo still hadn’t called.

Taking Mokuba by the hand, Seto walked up the stairs one step at a time. Isono would take care of his luggage like he did every time. Seto had just hoped everything would go well for this evening, he would take a shower and change before inviting Mokuba out to dinner in whichever restaurant he chose, when the cold voice of Gozaburo’s personal assistant echoed through the hall from one of the many speakers installed around the house. Seto promised himself that once he was the master of this house, the first thing he would do was tear out every single one of these hell machines and destroy them with a sledgehammer as violently as he could. However, he was not yet the master of the house (if he ever would. That was still an unsure future. Gozaburo was such an omnipresent figure, ruining every single moment of Seto’s life, it seemed his adoptive son would kick the bucket before the old man did.) and therefore had to suffer through the voice like students suffered through the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

“ _Seto, come to Mr. Kaiba’s office immediately.”_

There was no welcome, no hello, no please. Whatever the reason for the need of his presence, it seemed it could not wait for a minute or for a hint of politeness.

Seto lightly squeezed Mokuba’s shoulder, who was walking next to him and pushed him in direction of his room. As soon as Mokuba was out of sight, Seto walked up the stairs covered in heavy, overly expensive red carpet to the first floor. He was being expected.

Gozaburo’s office was everything the man was and showed off, whether he wanted or not. Dark wood on the floor and the walls, dark red carpet one’s feet might be swallowed in. The office chair between desk and window felt like the throne of a king, both a merciful and a tyrannical one, depending on his mood. Seto knew there was a bottle of champagne constantly put on cold within a hidden fridge. It was a place of stress and pain, of bad memories for nearly everyone who had ever stepped over the threshold. Seto knocked on the door. The last time he had opened the door to speak to Gozaburo’s secretary without knocking first, he had regretted it for an entire week. He had never done so again. Gozaburo took great care in not being the only one making Seto’s life a living hell.

Seto knocked. A deep voice answered from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

_”Come in!”_

It was as if his blood had turned to ice within his veins, Medusa standing right before him and freezing him into place. Gozaburo was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be on some pacific island enjoying his time with overprices cocktails and prostitutes who were pulling his money out of his pockets while he was gathering blackmail material about some of his business partners. Why was he back already?

Seto had to move. If Gozaburo knew he hesitated, whatever was about to come next would be much worse than it was supposed to be. Seto had to move. He had to close his fingers around the door handle, activate his biceps and triceps and other arm muscles to push down the handle and open the door.

_Seto had to move!_

Without knowing how, without knowing when, Seta was standing inside the office. The sun was just setting, spewing orange light inside the room and covering everything in a golden shine, just as fake as everything in the room itself. It appeared like a dream. Seto wished desperately that this was a dream, that he had fallen asleep on the flight back and would wake up as soon as the first hit landed on his skin. He had wished for it every single time since he had entered this room for the first time when he was 12 and he wished for it now.

He had never woken up.

Gozaburo was sitting in his chair, facing the door with a big cigar in his hands while he was taking a puff. On the desk was a big heavy ashtray. Seto eyed it wearily. Stiff, as slow as possible without being suspicious, he walked forward. Gozaburo still hadn’t said anything. Was this why he hadn’t called? Because he preferred to be Satan in person rather than over the phone? Seto knew he wasn’t allowed to standstill for lack of motion was seen as lack of strength. He had to walk forward and with each step approach his own demise. He was nearly hitting the desk when Gozaburo finally opened his mouth. He blew a cloud of heavy smoke into Seto’s face. The cough was barely suppressible.

“You’re late.”

Gozaburo made a motion for Seto to come around the desk. From there, he could see the framed picture of Mokuba when he had arrived at the mansion sitting on the desk.

“I’ve come home with the first flight I could.”

Gozaburo said nothing. Instead, he curled his fist around the collar of Seto’s shirt and pulled. Buttons flew everywhere. Seto could hear them falling onto the wood. He tried to keep his breathing as calm as possible. The blood was rushing in his ears. It felt as if Gozaburo could hear or feel his rushing heart in his chest, threatening to explode at any moment. Inhaling one more gulf of smoke from the cigar, Gozaburo looked him over. From his first strand of hair to his black lacked shoes. From his perfectly manicured fingers to the heavy ring he was wearing on his right middle fingers. From the tailored suit at his shoulders to the still sewn shut pockets of the jacket. The cigar was still resting between Gozaburo’s index and middle finger. Without a warning, he lifted his hand to Seto’s chest. The end of the cigar burned and charred. Seto did not move one single muscle. He had to get through this. He had to show Gozaburo he was strong. If he was strong maybe whatever came after would be softened. If it wasn’t burning, the but of the cigar being pressed into his skin would have still hurt by the sheer force of the movement.

“LIAR! YOU COULD HAVE TAKEN A PLANE THE EVENING BEFORE! DO YOU THINK I WILL ALLOW YOU TO WASTE MY TIME AND MY MONEY IN PARIS TO _SLEEP_ IN SOME OVERPRICED HOTEL?”

Seto did not answer. It wasn’t neither his time nor place to say anything.

“Don’t you dare forget that the only reason you can indulge in this little modelling _hobby_ of yours is because _I allow it_. And I can only allow it if you continue to deliver _perfect_ work for Kaiba Corporation. Do you _understand_?”

Seto nodded.

“Then _why_ ” Gozaburo made a slight pause for effect. It did not work. “…did I receive a call from one of our newest buyers in Syria yesterday complaining about our products we delivered? A product YOU designed? A product YOU were responsible for?”

The heavy glass ashtray hurt when it hit Seto in the shoulder. He could barely suppress a grunt. It fell to the floor with a soft _dunt_ , the impact having been softened by the carpet.

“How was I supposed to explain to him this faulty quality by my OWN son? ARE YOU TRYING TO SABOTAGE ME, BOY?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Seto did his best to remain calm. His voice could not betray him, could not show Gozaburo that he let himself be affected.

“Don’t you take me for stupid!”

There was nothing to say. Seto knew that the blueprints he had delivered and his entire work for Kaiba Corporation had been without fault. He hated himself for it. All he could do was take in what Gozaburo had to dish out. He could take it. Somebody else maybe couldn’t. He wasn’t a model. He wasn’t an engineer either, no matter what work he did for Kaiba Corp. His job was to protect others from Gozaburo’s wrath, to own misfortune and he excelled at both.

When Gozaburo kicked Seto out of his office, the glass ashtray had a new crack from top to bottom.


	4. Seto — Decisions are the devil’s work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seto has to keep secrets from Mokuba. A message from Gozaburo leads him to change his opinion on certain carreer opportunities.

The world was spinning and Seto had woken up only after it had been set into motion. He had no idea where top or bottom was. The only constant in his senses was the insufferable pain he was feeling. It was impossible to pin down and it felt as if his whole body had been set aflame. Maybe one of his ribs was broken. The wood of the doorframe felt slippery under his fingers as he stumbled into the bathroom, barely able to catch himself from falling. Seto forced himself to look back. The frame was as pristinely white as it was supposed to be. Good. There was no blood he had to take care off. The door fell shut quietly. Already the sound of the running water filling the bathtub was filling his ears.

The water was warm. Steam rose up into the air. Seto knew he should cool the burn mark left by the cigar with cold water, but the rest of the body was hurting so badly, the warm water was the best option he had right now. If he could just lie down like this forever and never face the outside world again, life might just be good. However, such relaxation and escapism where none of the things his life had in store for Seto.

_Knock knock_

The knocking on the door was light and faint and followed by a nearly lighter and fainter voice.

“Seto? Are you in there?”

Mokuba’s voice was somewhat muffled through the door, but even then, it carried his worries and uncertainties through the wood. Seto’s eyes flew open. Mokuba couldn’t see him like this.

“Yes. I’m coming!”

As Seto nearly jumped out of the bathtub, water splashed everywhere. He would have to tell one of the staff to clean his bathroom.

Finally facing himself in the mirror, Seto could assess to the damage he had suffered. Thankfully, Gozaburo had spared his face. His skin was slightly flushed from the hot water, but there was no damage to be seen or felt. His body however, was another matter. His ribs, especially on the right side as well as his left shoulder hurt like a bitch. Seto really hoped he wouldn’t have to see a doctor about it and possibly have to pay him and make him sign a confidentiality agreement to assure his silence. However, there weren’t any bruises to be seen yet. The bigger problem was the cigar burn under his left collarbone. The skin was charred and deeply red. There was no way Mokuba would miss it. Panicked, Seto looked around for something to cover up the injury. He had already thrown his shirt and pants down the laundry chute. Goddamnit, why had he been so thoughtless.

“Dinner is ready, and I thought you might want to eat something after your long flight”, came Mokuba’s voice through the door once more.

“Wait a second, I’m just putting something on, then I’ll come down for dinner!”

Far too quickly than was good for his health in his weakened condition, Seto slung a towel around his hips and took a second one to sling around his neck. After quickly checking that the burn mark was not visible – it wasn’t – he opened the door. Mokuba was waiting on his bed, legs dangling over the edge.

“Oh, good, you’re ready! I’m gonna tell Kayoko that you’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Quick as a monkey, he jumped from the bed. As soon as Mokuba was out of the room, Seto hurried to dress himself. He should have been more careful. Mokuba could have seen him like this! He could not let that happen. Dark blue chinos, white shirt, loafers which he used as house shoes. Every step hurt and Seto wished he could simply lie down on his currently very comfortable looking bed and sleep until all his problems had passed over. The only thing he could look forward to, was the dinner with Mokuba. Maybe he could even convince Isono to eat with them, now that Gozaburo had gone off to some place Seto didn’t care about as long as it wasn’t here.

The walk downstairs into the dining room felt like it took forever, each step igniting a fire in Seto which started in his heel each time he put it down, burning through his body as if it was a fuse of dynamite in an American western movie. The stairs were like an eternal decent down the Mariana Trench, the air being pressed out of his lungs and none able to replace it because Seto _could not make himself breathe_. Mokuba was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Seto forced himself to stand straight and keep his pokerface on. He could not betray in any way what had happened. He could do it. It was only two hours at most he had to get through, then he could get to his room and take care of his injuries. Only two more hours, then he could sleep.

The package of ibuprofen lying open next to the sink, Seto was covering up the burn wound with gauze when the phone of his screen lit up. He struggled to unlock the screen without losing hold of the cotton covering the injury and when he did, it was two messages. One from Gozaburo and one from Seto’s agent. The latter read:

_Don’t forget to give me your answer for the Casting Show Job!_

Seto snorted. He hadn’t answered so far to at least give the illusion of thinking it over and it would have been adorable how hopeful his agent had been over him accepting the project if it hadn’t been so annoying how he couldn’t wait one day to hear the answer. To release himself from the irritation, Seto planned to refuse the offer before going to sleep.

The second message, from Gozaburo, was a whole different affair.

_I have a big deal coming up next month. Mokuba will be coming with me to learn how to lead a business. Make sure he is prepared for it._

A cold shiver ran down Seto’s back. This couldn’t be possible. Without a single ounce of hesitation left in his body, he switched back to the conversation with his agent.

_Tell them I accept._


	5. Atem — So, what are you doing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atem can't find sleep and is one of the first to discover important news.

Moonlight was shining through the window onto the floor. Yugi was long asleep, bundled into his blankets as if an octopus had decided to take him prisoners, his legs hanging over the bed.

Atem was still wide awake. There were still too many thoughts running through his head, keeping him from relaxing enough to find sleep. Tomorrow, Anzu would return from the US for the holidays and they had already planned a dinner to welcome her. It would be good to see everyone together once more, they found less and less time for these kinds of things now that they had left high school. But they would probably ask him about what Atem was doing right now and he would be stuck once again rambling and trying to change the topic. He really wished he could show them he was doing something with his life now that they had all graduated, but it seemed that he was the only one out of their special group who had yet to decide what to do with his life. Anzu and Yugi were following their dreams by studying in their respective fields, Tristan had used his technical skills to secure a job and even though Atem was not completely sure what Joey was currently doing, he was living in his own apartment, which meant he must have found _something_ to do to afford it. Seeing them all again would be nice and Atem could not wait for the sunrise to arrive, but he could not ignore the feeling of dread and insecurity pooling in his guts like a snake in its nest, becoming bigger and bigger with each second he spent thinking about the next day and the void that was currently his future. What was he supposed to tell them?

_Yeah, I’m still working in the game shop and I plan on auditioning for this model casting show since I have nothing else to do at the moment and apparently Yugi thought it was a good idea._

That was really not an option.

Atem had just decided to turn on his side to at least try to get some sleep as not to appear like a zombie in the morning and scare Anzu away, when the screen of his phone lit up on the nightstand. Who could possibly contact him at such an hour? No one, as it turned out. Rather, it was an Instagram-notification.

_TWNTM has posted a new picture._

Out of habit, Atem opened the app to take a look at the new update. I was a simple headshot of Seto Kaiba, wearing a white shirt, the two top buttons open. Intrigued, Atem read the caption. 

_We are happy to announce Seto Kaiba as the first member of our Jury. Japan born and raised, he has worked with international designers and brands such as Chanel, Yves Saint-Laurent and Comme des Garcons as well as high fashion magazines such as Vogue, of which he will brace the December cover._

_Seto will oversee the auditions in East Asia as well as participate in the global judging once the participants have been casted._

_Follow us on @TWNTM to be up to date on the latest updates and not miss any news!_

For a short moment, Atem contemplated to look up how to audition for the show but with a quick look to his alarm clock, decided against it. _1:17_

He vowed himself to look up everything he needed to know about this audition in the morning.


	6. Seto — Consequences are like the Ocean (They come in Waves)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seto takes on his new job. Just like he expected, escape does not come easy.

Seto had to admit: he was nothing short of amazing. In less than two weeks, and he had organized everything. Renting a new apartment, signing the contract for this ridiculous TV show, transferring Mokuba to a new school and having a private tutor on stand-by if they were to move for the shooting. It had been stressful, that much was true. Thankfully, he had money, more than enough of it and this always made things easier.

The apartment he had rented was probably far too expensive, but it had private security and was a good location. Gozaburo wouldn’t be able to barge in like the brute he was and take Mokuba away to play his sick little games. All of this was for Mokuba, so he didn’t have to get to know Gozaburo the way Seto did. It was the only way. He was doing the right thing. Maybe Mokuba would even begin to miss his old friends back in Domino City, if they only stayed away long enough. It wasn’t like Seto knew any of Mokuba’s friends — and he had seemed oddly und upsettingly happy when Seto told him he had a new, more long-term job engagement and Mokuba would accompany him. As soon as the lease had been signed and the keys handed over, the boy had made sure all game consoles were correctly plugged in, dumped himself on the couch in front of the TV and proceeded to obliterate every single high score anyone had ever accomplished on the various games. It seemed like he had fun. Good. At least one thing was working out in Seto’s life right now.

As it turned out, there was a lot of things Seto did not know about the television industry. One of them was how exhausting and time-consuming fittings could me. He had dropped Mokuba off at school in the morning before driving straight to the studio, so the stylists could get their grabby little hands on him. Why couldn’t he just wear his own clothes? He had been elected Japan’s best dressed bachelor three years in a row, he should be trusted not to make a complete fool out of himself on national- no, _global_ television!

It was during the fourth hour of this fitting that Gozaburo tried to call him. Seto did not answer. The old man could rot in hell for all he cared. Now that he had finally managed to get some peace and quiet, even if it meant taking such a ridiculous job as a model jury member, he wouldn’t let himself be disturbed by anyone, not even a wrathful war mogul.

As it turned out, Gozaburo was not the kind of men who let himself be stopped by these kinds of things. When Seto was alone for a short time to get changed, the notification light of his phone blinked. He had a new message. It was from Gozaburo’s secretary, who informed him his “ _father was very displeased with his recent and current behaviour and he should call him back immediately_ ”. Seto threw the phone in some far-off corner of the room. He would not look at it for the rest of the day. If it was broken from the fall, even better.

The second thing Seto learned came with this kind of job, was attention. A lot of it. His agent was buzzing with excitement when he told him his Instagram profile had nearly gained 1 Million subscribers since the announcement he would partake in **The World’s next Top Model** and that his social media index had nearly doubled. Seto couldn’t care less what it meant, but the more famous it made him and the more money it brought in, the better.

There was a third thing Seto had not expected when he took the job, and that was how many people were desperate to ruin their lives in the modelling industry. As soon as he was finished with the fitting, they had given him two big piles of files, each one nearly as long as his arm.

“These are the candidates we already pre-selected for you. Sort out all of these you don’t want. Your opinion is key here,” the assistant told him, before she was off to discuss some other detail with some producer apparently. The sun had just begun to set when Seto decided to take a break and go back to the apartment to cook dinner for Mokuba. Now that he had taken him with him to Tokyo, he had to take care of him. No Isono or private cook to do that for him. It was somewhat refreshing, even though very annoying. Maybe he could teach Mokuba one or two things at the same time. It was an important skill to have, it wasn’t like he would profit off Gozaburo’s household for the rest of his life, at least Seto hoped so.

From the first pile, not even half of the candidates had proven anything useful. Seto might have been tired of the industry he worked in, but that didn’t mean he would allow his work and reputation to be anything less than stellar. Or at least as stellar as it could be considering the circumstances. He would continue tomorrow. Maybe they could even send the files to his apartment, so he could work from home a bit. It would be refreshing and keep his mind off the projects he still had to finish for Gozaburo.

He would find time for everything to be done. After all, he _was_ Seto Kaiba.

Naturally, Seto had not called Gozaburo back as per his secretary’s request. He was reminded of this fact when two days later, he was woken up at 6 in the morning by the doorman calling him.

“Mr. Kaiba, I’m am very sorry to disturb you this early, but there is a group of three men demanding to see you. They say they’re here by order of your father. However, I know you ordered us not to let anyone in. They’re very insistent. What shall I do?”, he said, voice slightly distorted through the interphone.

"Do exactly what I told you. Do not let them get inside the premise.”

The phone clacked loudly as he pushed it back onto its station. Hopefully, the noise hadn’t woken Mokuba up. The little minions could rot in hell for all Seto cared. If Gozaburo truly wanted to make him suffer for his insolence, he would have to make the effort to come to Seto personally. Until then, he would greatly enjoy his little vacation from this old, miserable man.


	7. Atem — First impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atem arrives in Tokio to take part in the personal auditions. He meets people.

Atem took a deep breath. He could do this. Yugi supported him in this decision! This was everything he had been waiting for! Only a few more steps, and he would be that much closer to living his dream.

The tall building where the auditions were held glistened in the morning sun. He just had to walk through that door and say his name at the front desk. He could do this. Everything would be fine. The worst thing that could happen was that he didn’t get the audition and that wasn’t even a bad thing. Would he be disappointed? Sure! But he had already gotten so far to be invited to a personal audition, he couldn’t give up now!

He could do it. Everything would turn out fine. As soon as he was done, he would call Yugi, tell him how it went and take the earliest train back to Domino City in the morning. It would be something he could tell his children and grandchildren in 50 years. The experience alone would be worth it. Additionally, he would get to meet Seto Kaiba! He would have paid for the entire trip just for that! It was time to show everyone how great he was.

Atem did everything in his might to ignore the crushing feeling of self-doubt that had once again settled into his stomach.

Having finished his little pep talk, Atem stepped to the automatic door. It opened silently. No one paid any attention to him as he stepped into the lobby. The front desk was at the very back of the room, being manned by two impeccably dressed young men, with slicked back hair and expensive looking uniforms. Atem tried to hold his jacked closed. If the employees were dressed to the nines, how could he compete with his washed-out denim jacket and basic t-shirt? He should have thought about dressing classier! But it was too late now. He had already stepped too far and gotten someone’s attention.

“Hello, welcome to the Hayashi Business Center. How may I help you?”, asked the employee closest to him.

“Uhm, my name is Atem Muto, I’m here for the ‘World’s next Top Model’ audition?” Atem laid the letter he had received a week prior on the counter. The employee looked at it very thoroughly. Atem began to get even more nervous than he already was. Maybe it was fake, and someone had played a prank on him? Or it had been sent out by mistake? What if his entire trip had been naught and he had paid for the train tickets and the hotel for nothing?

“Here you go. This is your visitors pass to get access to the elevators. The audition is on the 23rd floor. We wish you the best of luck.”

The employee handed him the letter back with a plastic card. Atem took it. His hands were slightly shaking.

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

It was as if the world had been lifted of his shoulders. This was real. He had really gotten invited to the auditions!

Atem stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to the 23rd floor. It was only a matter of hours, maybe minutes, until he got to meet Seto Kaiba in person.

A bell rang. The elevator doors opened. He had reached the 23rd floor.

On the immediate left side of the elevator was a desk where a young woman was sitting. She was pretty. Clinging his hands into fists inside his pockets, Atem approached her.

“Hello, my name is Atem Muto. I’m here for the audition.”

She gave him a cold look and began to search for his name in her files.

“Of course. Here is your starting number. Please walk all the way to the end of the hallway and then to the left. Wait there until your number is called.”

Before Atem could say Thank you or anything of that sort, she had already dived back into whatever was so interesting on the papers laid out in front of her. Atem took the paper she had handed him and walked in the direction she had indicated him. He could hear the loud chatter from several meters away. When he turned around the corner, the waiting room was packed.

There were chairs on the left and right side, but they were all taken already. The rest of the candidates stood around, very few talking to each other, most of them on their phones. As Atem tried to get through to find a bit of place, he felt like a child lost in a crowd. Everyone here was so tall and elegant!

“Hey, watch out!”

Atem could barely keep himself from crashing into someone else when he was knocked over. Before he could say anything back, the other person was already too far away. He could only see her long hair swinging with each step while she pushed other people out of the way. Well, he was in delightful company.

“You sure you’re in the right place?”, someone asked behind Atem. He turned around as much as he could in the packed room.

Leaning against the wall was a tall blonde with big, purple eyes. She had to be wearing contact lenses, there was no way this eye colour was natural.

Atem swallowed dry. He would not let anyone make him doubt his place in the competition.

“I’m very sure about that!”

He knew he didn’t have to prove anyone anything, but he still thrust his participation number in her face for good measure. Who did she think she was?

“Wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to attack you! You looked like you were a little lost, that’s all. I’m Mai Kujaku by the way, nice to meet you.” She stretched her hand out and Atem shook it. Her nails were perfectly manicured.

“Atem Muto, nice to meet you as well.”

“So, Atem, where are you from?”

Of course. That question was inevitable. Atem sighed internally.

“I was born and raised in Domino City, but my parents are both half-Egyptian, if that’s what you’re interested in.”

She laughed nervously, apparently understanding how rude her question had been.

“I actually wanted to know if you’re from Tokio or if you travelled here for the audition, but that’s cool! My mother is Swedish, so we have at least something in common. Although I cannot imagine that’s nearly the same as having two half-black parents. What made you want to audition for the show?”

As it turned out, Mai was actually very nice. She had the starter number 117 and was therefore called up before Atem. He wished her the best of luck before she wormed her way through the crowd with the same kind of authority which had made him so weary of her at first. He really wished she got in. Someone like her truly deserved it.

Only 5 more numbers. Soon, it would be his turn. He could do it.

Candidate after candidate, girl after girl was called up and walked through the door. There were actually very little guys auditioning for the show, as far as Atem could see. This got his hopes up a little bit. Maybe they wanted to cast a certain number of candidates from each gender? That would certainly heighten his chances to get accepted.

But he shouldn’t be to hopeful and arrogant. Even if there were less men, they all looked far more model like than Atem. Taller, more elegant, long fingers and classy outfits. By now, Atem could only hope not to be laughed at by the judges. Maybe he would be lucky and Seto Kaiba wouldn’t even be present for the audition process? Then Atem wouldn’t have to suffer the knowledge of having his idol call him names or whatever awful but true things came to mind when he would see him.

Was that a Rolex the guy happily chatting with another model was wearing? Of course, it was. Why hadn’t Atem thought up dressing up to the nines? Showing off what he could show off. There was no chance he could compete against someone like him. Rich people were already preferred in the business, everyone knew that. They could rack in equally rich customers for whatever ad campaigns they could book and where valuable employees. Maybe it was too late already. Atem should just give and go home. It would be the better choice for everyone.

“Number 122!”

Too late to turn back now. Atem took a deep breath. There was no other choice but going forward. He had to go through that door.


End file.
